


To Help Someone Else

by one_L



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Nightmares, Sick Character, Sick Zuko (Avatar), Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump, Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_L/pseuds/one_L
Summary: "Sometimes, the best way to solve your own problems, is to help someone else." -Uncle IrohA collection of one-shots detailing the times Iroh helped Zuko.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 207





	1. Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Remember your first time sick away from home/loved ones? I do! 🙋I remember being sooooo sick with the stomach flu my junior year of college and truly missing my mom for the first time as an adult.
> 
> This story was inspired by that experience (plus the Ember Island episode where the kids get sent away to the beach for a few days). I couldn't help but wonder how little Zuko would handle his first major illness without his mother there (hint: not well!). Good thing Uncle Iroh is there to help and give lots of comfort, hugs, and advice!
> 
> **Warning: There will be some slightly graphic depictions of vomiting in this story, so if that's not for you, you might want to pass!**

"Zuko? Zukooooo! Come now nephew, time to get up!" Came the warm baritone voice of Uncle Iroh. Turning over to peer at the man, Zuko yawned widely, bringing a hand up to scrub the sleep out of his eyes.

"There's my little prince!" Beamed Iroh, taking a moment to card a quick hand through the boy's hair as his nephew slowly came to. Zuko simply groaned in response, rolling back onto his side, too tired to be fully embarrassed by his uncle's outward displays of affection.

"Oh no, Nephew. No sleeping in this morning. We have a lot to do today! Waves to jump, shells to pick, but first...breakfast," Uncle rattled off enthusiastically. "Get dressed so we can eat and find a good spot on the beach."

"Alright, Uncle," responded Zuko, answering around another yawn.

As Zuko's door clicked shut, he flopped back down on his mattress, stretching his stiff muscles, trying to shake himself of the last bits of sleep that clung to his body. 

Glancing out the window, he noticed the sun had already risen quite considerably. Huh. Normally he was awake before dawn. He must've been tired. Though, he did always seem to sleep better here on Ember Island at his family's beach house than he did in the palace. It was so much fresher, freer-- less stifling. He actually really liked it here, even if he had been sent away against his own wishes for the week. 

Apparently, Father needed time to plan battle strategies with his most important war advisors, and couldn't get this work done with the "constant noise of petulant children around". 

_Maybe if you hadn't gotten rid of Mom we'd have someone to keep us out of your way._

Noticing his brother's frustration, Iroh had offered to take the kids to Ember Island for the week. Zuko, though a bit upset about being deemed annoying enough to be sent away, reluctantly agreed to the trip. He hadn't been to the beach in years, nor had he spent much time with his Uncle Iroh in quite a while.

Azula, on the other hand, did not take kindly to the idea of being sent away to stay with "Uncle Fatso" and "Dum Dum" in some old dusty beach house for a week. Mai's father, wanting to earn some clout with the Fire Lord, offered to take the girl, and Ozai agreed, happy to be rid of his children...for at least a little while.

A sharp knock at the door roused Zuko once more. "Breakfast is ready when you are, Prince Zuko!"

"Coming, Uncle."

Quickly, Zuko threw himself out of bed only to become suddenly aware of how tired he still felt. Plus dizzy. And sweaty. And...stomach-achy? He steadied himself against the bed frame as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He closed his eyes, and a few deep breaths later the icky sick feeling seemed to subside. 

_Probably just need to eat something._

He made his way over to the large wardrobe and dressed quickly in swim shorts and a thin red robe. He slid on his sandals and headed down the hall toward the dining room.

Uncle was already at the table, admiring the view from his seat. 

"Isn't it beautiful, Prince Zuko?" Such a wonderful view for a lovely breakfast with my favorite nephew," Iroh smiled as he poured himself and his nephew some tea.

"I'm your _only_ nephew, Uncle, and haven't you been here a million times already?" said Zuko, rolling his eyes. There was no malice in his voice, though, and he followed his response up with a quick smirk.

"That is true," chuckled Iroh. "Though it has been some time since I have been able to enjoy the calming beauty of Ember Island. You were just a little one last time we were here together!" He said, reaching across the table to pinch his nephew's cheek playfully.

"Uncle!" Zuko cried, swatting Iroh's hand away.

Iroh smiled, allowing his nephew to regain a bit of composure as they began to fill their plates and eat their breakfast. 

The two ate in comfortable silence, enjoying each others' company and the view around them. Zuko was thankful for a mild breakfast of green tea and porridge. He wasn't sure he could stomach anything else. 

Before long, the food was eaten, the plates were cleared, and they were on their way down to the beach; bags, towels, umbrellas, buckets, and shovels all in tow. 

"You sure you don't want me to carry the umbrellas, Zuko?" Iroh asked, noticing his nephew's sweaty face and labored breathing.

"No...I got it..." came the stubborn response. Truth of the matter was, the further they walked down the steps to the beach, the heavier they became and the more Zuko wished he'd offered to take the bags instead. But Zuko, ever insistent upon proving his strength and worthiness to those around him, stubbornly continued on. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, not only was Zuko sweaty and out of breath, he was a bit nauseous again as well.

_You're fine. Quit being a baby and thinking about it so much._

"This looks like a perfect spot!" Bellowed Iroh, hands on his wide hips as he took in the view of the ocean. Zuko couldn't drop the umbrellas fast enough. They quickly set up their belongings and laid out their towels, eager to enjoy some relaxation.

Zuko's stomach continued to rebel throughout the setting up process. While fanning out his towel, Iroh couldn't help but notice how pale his nephew looked. His skin had a sickly yellow tinge to it, while beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He also seemed to lack the spark of energy and enthusiasm he normally had. The boy had just woken up for the day, but looked about ready to fall asleep on his feet. He just didn't look -- or act -- like his usual rosy-cheeked, exuberant 10-year-old self.

"It sure is hot today, let's rest in the shade for a bit, nephew," said Iroh, hoping to get the child cooled off and resting for a bit. It truly was a hot day, and the last thing he wanted was the boy to get overheated before they enjoyed anything else.

Zuko didn't need to be told twice as he plopped down on the towel next to his Uncle.

"Water?" 

Zuko nodded as he took the red canteen from his uncle and drank vigorously. 

"So after our rest, what would you like to do first, nephew?"

"I dunno," shrugged the boy. Though he was starting to cool off a bit, the churning in his belly didn't seem to be subsiding. He brought an arm over his eyes and rolled onto his side, trying to push the dizziness and nausea away.

Iroh raised an eyebrow at this. "Are you feeling alright, nephew?" 

"Fine. Just hot and tired."

Better tread lightly and keep an eye on him, Iroh thought. He knew that growing up as Ozai's son, weakness of any sort, physical or emotional, was not tolerated. His nephew would not come right out and admit feeling ill, and bothering him about it would lead nowhere. Plus, any number of things could be bothering the boy. Perhaps he truly was just hot and tired. Whatever the case, he'd give him some space and keep a close watch on him.

"Alright then, nephew. We can figure out what to do later."

Zuko grunted in response, still nauseous, but beginning to feel a bit sleepy again as well. Even though he'd just woken up, a nap sounded nice. Maybe his stomach would feel better when he woke.

_______________

A sudden spray of sand in the face jolted Zuko from his nap. 

"Sorry about that!" a young boy yelled, grabbing the offending ball and running off.

As he began to fully wake up, Zuko realized his nap had definitely not helped his stomach at all. In fact, he felt worse. His entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and sand, and the dizziness and nausea had returned full force. His stomach rolled uncomfortably, his meager breakfast sitting like a ton of bricks at the bottom of his belly. Suddenly, the beach was the last place he wanted to be. The humidity in the air was stifling. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, each one coming quicker than the last. He needed to leave. Now. He glanced to his side, ready to tell Uncle he was going in for the day, but didn't see him anywhere.

_Probably off picking up sea shells or something._

He figured he'd run into him on the way up. And if not, Iroh would figure out eventually where Zuko was.

Zuko began walking across the hot sand over to the long stone steps of his family's beach property. The more he walked, the worse he felt. Hot sun beat down on his cool, clammy, skin. His breathing grew increasingly rapid and his legs began to tremble. The corners of his vision began turning gray as his stomach did another flip. When he reached the second set of steps, another wave of nausea overcame him and he doubled over, falling to his hands and knees. 

_Oh no no no no no, not here!_

He closed his eyes, desperately trying to quell the nausea. But it was no use.

A deep retching sound clawed its way out of his throat as vomit splattered on the stone walkway below him.

_Noooo. No no no!_

He heaved again, this time bringing up more partially digested food. Again and again, he retched and heaved. Tears sprung to his eyes from the sheer force of the vomiting, unable to even get a breath of air in. He tried inhaling, but instead began to choke and gag. He couldn't breath. He couldn't breath!

"Zuko!"

_Uncle?_

A hand came to rest on his back, and began rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades."Oh nephew, it's okay. Just let it out," came a soothing voice from behind him. 

He tried to focus on the calming voice of his uncle, on the weight of the hand on his back, its steady movements. Tried to match his breathing to it. He retched one more final time, bringing up only bile at this point, then fell back onto his bottom. He gasped for air, gulping it down as he attempted to regain his barings.

"I-I'm s-sorry Uncle," the boy sputtered, face burning in shame. He was completely humiliated. Tears came to his eyes again, this time of embarrassment.

"Hush, nephew. Let me help you."

_So weak. So shamefully weak._

Iroh pulled out a handkerchief, and began gently wiping the vomit from his nephew's chin.

A small sob escaped from Zuko's lips. It had been so long since Zuko had felt such a tender, gentle touch. Not since Mom had left. 

_Stop it._

Mom. He wanted Mom, right now. 

_Stop it. Stop thinking about it._

More tears came, followed by another sob, as he thought of her. He'd never been sick without her before. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. He was sick and she wasn't there. She wasn't there. Not just _not_ with them on Ember Island, she was _gone_ . She was _gone_ and he was alone. He was sick and alone and she wasn't coming back to take care of him, to rub his back as he threw up, to hold him or hug him or rock him through the night as fever ravaged through his body. She wasn't coming back to do any of that. Another loud sob left his lips before he could choke it back, followed by another, and another. He couldn't stop.

_Quit crying, baby. Quit it before he tells Father._

Iroh could barely contain himself as he watched his nephew crumble before him. "Oh, Zuko, I know. Come here, Nephew."

Suddenly, strong hands slipped under Zuko's armpits, and he was lifted into his Uncle's embrace. He felt himself pressed into a strong, broad chest as an arm came around his bottom, securing him in place. 

Zuko melted into Uncle Iroh's arms. He knew it was weak, but he couldn't help himself. Couldn't resist. He didn't realize how much he missed being held like this. How much he missed Mom holding him like this. Close and secure, like nothing could ever take him from her.

_But Father took her. He took her away and now she's gone...forever._

He cried harder, burying his face into the crook of his Uncle's neck.

"It's okay, nephew. I've got you. Hush now," the old man soothed, placing a hand on the boy's neck, stroking the soft hair. He began to rock back and forth, attempting to calm the distraught child. 

But the cries kept coming. It was as if something inside of him had broken. He gasped and coughed and sobbed and sputtered for many more minutes. And Iroh held him close, rocking and patting the sick little boy in his arms. The old man had a feeling these tears were a result of more than just an upset stomach.

Suddenly, Zuko felt as though he were gliding through the air. He realized Uncle had started walking back to the beach house. Between the gentle hand patting his back, the deep, rumbly voice humming in his ear, and the soft sway of their bodies moving side to side as Uncle carried him to the house, Zuko felt his cries begin to subside. He tightened his hold around his Uncle's shoulders, pushing his face deeper into his neck. He breathed in the soft smell of jasmine and ginseng, breath hitching part way through with a strong hiccup.

Iroh couldn't help but smile as he felt the boy hiccup against his chest and nestle further into his neck, finally beginning to relax. He was reminded of a time long ago when the little boy in his arms used to cry and hiccup and sniffle late at night, until he was picked up and held and rocked into the early morning hours. Zuko would never admit it, but he had always craved physical affection from his loved ones. He was a much more tender-hearted, affectionate boy than he let on, than he was allowed to be. And Iroh was more than happy to oblige him.

The pair made their way into the bathroom, where Iroh set the boy down on the floor before him. He sat on a small stool near a large tub and began stripping Zuko of his ruined clothes.

"Let's get these dirty clothes off of you and get you washed up, hmm Nephew? Does that sound alright to you?"

"Uh huh," Zuko nodded in response, bringing two small fists up to rub at his eyes as he continued to hiccup.

"Good boy," smiled Iroh, stroking back a few stray pieces of hair from his nephew's face.

He turned on the faucet and continued stripping the child, holding a towel up for privacy as Zuko removed the final layer of clothing himself. 

Zuko stepped into the tub and almost instantly felt his muscles relax. He took in a slow, deep breath to calm his hiccups and hitched breathing. Took in the smells of the cool bath water, now infused with the light scent of soap. He felt his eyelids droop, suddenly becoming very aware of just how tired he was. Even after sleeping late and taking a long mid-morning nap, he still felt as though he could lay down and sleep right here in the bathtub.

A large hand on his forehead jolted him back to awareness.

"You have a bit of a fever, Nephew. But not to worry! A nice, cool bath will help bring that down a bit."

Zuko could only nod in acknowledgment as he felt a washcloth begin to gently wipe the grime off his face and hands. He was about to protest that he was _way_ too old to be bathed like a baby, but the truth was he wasn't sure he could do much of it on his own any way. After being so violently sick, then crying and carrying on the way he did afterward, he felt completely drained. His arms and legs were limp noodles, and he could hardly hold his head up. He allowed his Uncle to scrub him clean, carefully wiping his face, arms, and chest with a soft wash cloth, trusting he wouldn't violate his privacy or dignity any more than he already had.

Before long Zuko was clean and free of all the sweat and grime that coated his skin. He felt Uncle's hands grip him under his arms as he was lifted out of the bathtub and placed on shaky legs. He was quickly wrapped in a thick, warm towel and dried off. Zuko felt his eyes begin to droop again as Uncle finished banishing the last droplets of water from his face and hair. He could not believe how utterly exhausted he felt.

"Stay with me just a bit longer Nephew, then you can rest."

Zuko nodded, eyes closed, as Uncle lifted him into his warm embrace once again. Fresh and clean from his bath, wrapped in a towel and held close to his Uncle like a child much younger than himself, Zuko couldn't help but sink further into unconsciousness as he was carried down the hall and into his room.

_Stay awake. Father would be so mad._

He heard his dresser drawers open and the rustle of clothes as Uncle grabbed a clean set of pajamas. A soft but firm surface met his back and he realized he had been laid down on the bed.

_Stay awake stay awake stay awake._

Soft, clean silk was wrapped around his body and secured around his waist, followed by the comforting weight of blankets. He could already feel his skin turning clammy again and beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Even though the bath had helped, he still felt quite awful.

_Enjoying being tucked into bed, baby? Wait until Father hears about this._

He had to wake up. He needed to speak up before he got in trouble. Before Uncle told father about him being sick. He couldn't stand for him to find out. Or for Uncle to think of him the way Father did. Blearily, Zuko opened his eyes, looking into his Uncle's face.

"'M sorry, Uncle," Zuko rasped.

"What on Earth for, my dear nephew?" Iroh questioned, though he had a feeling he knew where this conversation was headed.

"For bein' sick. And bein' a baby and crying and stuff. I promise I'm okay now, you don't have to do anything else," Zuko mumbled, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his blanket.

"Nephew, you have nothing to apologize for. Everyone gets sick from time to time. It is okay to let someone who loves you help you, especially when you are not well," he said, hand cupping the boy's soft cheek.

Zuko pulled away. Unshed tears burned at his eyes again. 

_NO!_

He couldn't show any more weakness to Uncle. He tried to sit up, determined to show him how fine he was now.

"But it's NOT okay! Father says...he says It's shameful. I shouldn't need anybody to help me. I know I should have done better. And...and I d-d-didn't do that earlier and _I-I'm_ s-s-sorry you have to deal with me now, please d-don't be mad at meeee! P-p-please don't tell Fath--"

His tearful apology was suddenly interrupted by strong arms wrapping around his body again.

"Shh, nephew, please. I am not upset with you. You have done nothing wrong."

_Crying again, baby? You're pathetic._

Zuko tried to stop himself, tried holding his breath until he couldn't any longer. It didn't work. He coughed and cried loudly into his Uncle's chest. When he began gasping for air again, Iroh pulled the child into his lap, blankets and all, afraid his nephew might hyperventilate and make himself sick again. The poor boy's sobs shook both of their bodies as he gently rocked them back and forth.

"Shhh, Zuko. Everything is okay," Iroh reassured.

"NO IT'S N-NOT! IT'S NOT ALRIGHT!" Zuko suddenly yelled, starling the old man.

"I don't feel good an-an-and I threw up and I cried like a baby and now I-I-I'm cryin' again like a w-w-w-weakling 'cause-'cause...I want my mom! I WANT MOMMMMM!"

Iroh knew words wouldn't help at this point. He simply held his nephew tighter, rocking him back and forth as he patted the boy's heaving back. The poor child was absolutely hysterical, and for good reason. It had only been a few months since he had lost the one person he relied on for comfort and strength his whole young life. And it had only a few weeks since his Uncle had come back into his life-- who knew how much damage Ozai had done to the boy's mind and soul in that much time? After hearing Zuko's tearful apology for things no child should ever need to apologize for, Iroh couldn't help but wonder: How many nights had Zuko woken, scared or sick or simply seeking comfort and affection, only to be told to toughen up or face the consequences? How many days had he been told he was worthless, weak, burdensome-- simply for existing? Far too many, thought Iroh. Now, truly sick and vulnerable, Zuko was clearly terrified of the care and affection he so desperately wanted. No child should ever go without love and support the way Zuko obviously had for the past few months. And no child should EVER be made to feel weak and ashamed for wanting to be loved. 

No more, thought iroh. No more will his nephew go without love and support and affection. No more will he fear repercussions for wanting those basic human desires. Now, more than ever, he was committed to providing the boy in his arms with whatever he needed, whatever that may be.

Iroh held Zuko close to his chest for several more moments, rocking and shushing the boy until his tears once again subsided to quiet sniffles and hitched breaths. He took advantage of the moment as his nephew continued to calm down.

"Zuko, I need you to listen to me," he said, fingers under his nephew's chin, tipping it upward to look into his eyes.

"It is not reasonable to expect anyone, let alone a child, to never have a moment of weakness, a moment where they need someone else's help. Everyone, even myself, even your _father_ , has had times in their life when they needed help. We all have times when we need to lean on someone else for support," he continued.

Zuko nodded against his Uncle's shoulder, too tired to argue or fight back.

_I hope he's not lying._

"It is okay to be sick or weak or hurt and to need someone else to help you, just like I am doing for you now, my nephew. It is even okay to _want_ someone to help you. There is no shame in that."

"If you say so," came the soft response.

Zuko trusted his Uncle. He had never known him to be deceptive or manipulative before, like Father and Azula. If he was saying it out loud, it had to be true. He needed it to be true. Now that he thought about it, Uncle was a lot more like Mom than he was like Father (even though they were brothers). Father had never rubbed his back when he was sick, or bathed him when he was filthy, or tucked him in, or held him and rocked him as he cried. Only Mom had. And now Uncle had, too. Though he still desperately missed Mom, at the same time, he felt a little better knowing he had Uncle here. More silence passed between the two, before Zuko spoke up again.

"Uncle?"

"Yes, my dear boy?"

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me, Nephew. It is my pleasure," Iroh said, before pressing a soft kiss to his nephew's sweaty brow.

"Now, go to sleep Prince Zuko. I will be here when you wake," he said, settling himself and the boy in his arms into the soft mattress

With that reassurance, Zuko allowed himself to finally fall asleep, safe and secure for the first time in months.


	2. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko wakes in the middle of the night, distraught from a nightmare. Cue Uncle Iroh and his warm hugs and sagely advice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Back with another serving of good ole Iroh/Zuko hurt/comfort (with a rather generous side of angst). 
> 
> This chapter takes place sometime during season two, when Iroh and Zuko were living in Ba Sing Se. I imagine this happening after they'd been settled in for a while, but before Zuko released Appa and became sick.
> 
> Enjoy!

Zuko pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to push the images of his latest nightmare from his mind. They were getting increasingly worse, this one being the most horrific yet. A culmination of all his worst experiences over the past few years.

He dreamt of his failure during the Agni Kai with his father in vivid detail. The look of anger on Father's face as Zuko refused to stand and fight. The sudden burst of pain as his flesh seared away. The smell of burnt hair and skin. The deep ache of shame he felt as he heard his punishment for his pathetic show of weakness. 

He dreamt of his sister's deception, of her using his desperation for Father's love as a tool for his capture. He dreamt they didn't escape. That he had to face Father again. He saw how the man's disappointment and disdain for his only son hadn't lessened with time. He heard Uncle's screams as he was burned alive for betraying Zhao and ultimately leading to the Fire Nation's defeat in the north.

He dreamt of his mother and her sudden disappearance, the way his chest ached with longing for days, weeks, years after. And he dreamt of her reappearance, the look of disappointment on her face as she realized her son was becoming far more like his father than she ever hoped he would become. He saw the hurt in her eyes, felt the sadness in her heart. 

He even dreamt of Li, the little Earth Kingdom boy who had looked at him in a way no one else had before- with awe and admiration. He saw the boys face, eyes wide with wonder, when he taught him the basics of using dual swords. And he felt his heart clench when he heard those three awful words come out of the boy's mouth just a day later. Those three words that were uttered only after he revealed who he truly was. He felt the sting of rejection as he realized he would never be accepted as himself. Not in the Fire Nation. Not in the Earth Kingdom. Not anywhere.

A quiet sob slipped past his lips as the pain knotted itself into an uncomfortable ball deep in his chest. It was all too much. He attempted to take a slow, deep breath, trying to stem the flow of tears and soothe his ragged breathing, but his chest only spasmed in response.

He tried in vain several more times to breathe slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth, desperately trying to stop the uncomfortable sobs from bubbling up in his chest. But the tears kept coming, steadily dripping down the sides of his face and pooling in his ears, soaking into the cotton of his pillow. His breath hitched painfully with each inhale and exhale. He knew he was barely managing to keep his cries quiet. He only hoped he wouldn't wake Uncle.

He didn't usually allow himself to give in to his tears, but lately it was happening more and more. It was hard not to give in to them, into the utter hopelessness he felt. He was trapped in the wretched slums of Ba Sing Se, further from his goal of capturing the Avatar than he ever had been before. At least on the  _ Wani _ he had the means to fulfill his destiny- a crew, a ship, money.  _ Hope _ . If the Avatar happened to pop up somewhere, he had what he needed to capture the elusive air bender.

But now, he was stuck. He had absolutely no way of achieving his goal. No crew, no ship, no allies of any sort. And he wasn't even just banished anymore. He was a fugitive, a  _ criminal _ . His own sister, his own fellow countrymen were hunting him down, hoping to capture him and turn him over to his father for punishment. The thought of what Father would do to him now, after everything, was almost unbearable. The situation was completely hopeless, and he only had himself to blame for it. If only he wasn't such a pathetic, worthless weakling.

He sobbed audibly and rolled onto his side, wrapping himself in his blankets and pulling his knees to his chest. 

The scrape of his bedroom door sliding open startled him from his misery.

_ No. _

He held his breath, not daring to move a muscle.

_ Why is he here?! _

The floorboard creaked with a tentative footstep.

_ Keep it together.  _

"Zuko?" 

_ Don't let him see you like this. _

He clamped his jaw shut and exhaled slowly, hoping to keep his sobs and hitched breaths at bay long enough until Uncle saw he was still sleeping soundly and went back to bed.

More quiet footsteps made their way toward his bed.

_ Go away go away go away! _

"Are you alright, Nephew?"

The mattress dipped behind him with the added weight of his Uncle. A quiet sigh accompanied the movement.

Iroh was too well versed in parenthood to fall for Zuko's feigned sleep. He could see the subtle shaking of the boy's shoulders and hear the unsteadiness of his breathing. He knew Zuko was awake, and he knew something was wrong. He knew his nephew and his proneness to nightmares and the self-loathing, self-deprecating thoughts that usually followed. Though it had been a long time since he had been awakened by his Nephew's cries in the night, he knew a slow, gentle approach would be best. Anything else would be met with stubborn resistance. He waited patiently for a response.

_ He's not leaving. He knows I'm awake. _

Zuko knew Uncle could probably see the tear tracks on his cheeks and the scrunched expression he wore in an attempt to hold in his tears. Hot shame bloomed across his face. He drew in a slow, measured breath, trying to control the emotion that was welling up in his chest, trying to calm himself enough to speak.

_ Deep breaths.  _

It wasn't working. 

_ Slow, deep breaths.  _

Why wasn't it working?!

Iroh's heart wrenched at the sight of his nephew trying, and failing, to regain control of his emotions. The boy's chin quivered as fresh, traitorous tears tracked down his flushed cheeks, and his chest visibly hitched with barely contained emotion. It took a great deal of self control not to pull Zuko into a tight embrace, to whisper quiet reassurances in his ear like he did when his nephew was much younger. But he knew such a demonstrative response would not be accepted right now. He decided to compromise. 

Zuko suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. The contact startled him into abruptly releasing the choked sob he was so desperately trying to contain.

Iroh pushed further.

"Zuko, what's wrong?"

_ Why won't you leave me alone?! _

The boy attempted to answer, tried to bite out a gruff response tinged with enough anger to hurt the old man, to push him away so he could finally be alone again. He didn't want Uncle to see him like this. No one, not even Uncle, had seen him cry in years. He was too old for this. He was a  _ man _ ! Men didn't cry and break down over stupid nightmares. They didn't even have nightmares in the first place! But instead of words, another coughing sob slipped out. He gasped desperately, trying and failing to catch his breath.

_ Stop it stop it stop it stop it! _

He clenched his fists into the sheets as tight as they would go. Screwed his eyes shut until he saw spots of white dancing in his vision.

"It's okay, Zuko," Uncle reassured, running a gentle thumb over the boys trembling shoulder.

The warmth of Uncle's concerned voice and soft touch unhinged something inside of Zuko. He couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears flowed freely again as his chest suddenly heaved painfully with heavy, gasping sobs. 

"It's alright, Nephew," soothed Iroh. "You're alright."

The hand moved from his shoulder to his back, firmly planting itself between his shoulder blades. He could hear Uncle shushing him gently, the soft noises above his head amplifying the soothing movements of the hand on his back. 

Zuko's cries were heartbreaking. Iroh hadn't seen his nephew cry so openly since the weeks following his banishment. He knew the events of the past couple months, as well as their current circumstances in Ba Sing Se, had been weighing heavily on his nephew. But he did not realize they had affected him so greatly. He was used to dealing with an angry, hot-headed, volatile Zuko who lashed out at the drop of a pin. But a sad, broken, crying Zuko? He had not dealt with  _ that _ Zuko in so long. He didn't realize  _ that  _ Zuko even existed anymore. Clearly, whatever had broken his nephew down into the sobbing mess before him had been burdening him for quite a while. Guilt seeped into Iroh's bones at the thought of Zuko suffering so profoundly, so privately, right below his nose. He would have to get to the bottom of this. For now, though, simply being present and offering whatever comfort Zuko would accept would have to be enough.

Zuko didn't know how long he laid there, coughing and crying and sobbing as Uncle sat quietly beside him on the bed, gently rubbing and patting his back. As much as he hated to admit it, the contact was incredibly soothing, conveying a sense of security and peace that words just couldn't at the moment. And yet, he felt so unworthy of such treatment, such tender care and understanding. He spent half his time barking orders to those around him, especially to Uncle, trying his best to look and sound fierce. Trying to project the image of a person he wished he could be, knew he never really could be. But still, Uncle stood by him. Why? Why, after all the snide comments, hurtful insults, and angry outbursts, would he sit here with him in the middle of the night rubbing his back and soothing his tears? He didn't understand it. He didn't feel worthy, but he  _ was _ thankful nonetheless. He had to speak up, had to say  _ something _ . Words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I'm s-s-sorry for w-waking you Un-Uncle," he bit out over gasping breaths, still facing the wall, back turned to Uncle. He was too ashamed to face him. The circles on his back intensified, pressure increasing slightly.

"Shh nephew," Iroh soothed. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I'm t-too old f-for th-this. This is s-s- _ stupid! _ You d-don't have to…"

Iroh moved his hand from Zuko's back to his head, stroking back the soft, messy locks of black hair.

"Hush, now. Everyone has a rough night from time to time, no matter how old they are. There is nothing 'stupid' about it."

"Y-y-yes there  _ is _ !" Zuko choked out.

"I w-wouldn't even  _ b-be _ in this position if I had just c-c-captured the avatar already like I was  _ supposed _ to do. I w-wouldn't be  _ h-here _ having s-stupid nightmares and crying about them if I hadn't spoken o-out against Father in-in the first place and refused to fight him like the shameful, worthless  _ FAILURE _ I am!"

_ Ah _ , mused Iroh.  _ There it is _ .  _ The reason for the tears. The shame, coming to the surface once again. _

Iroh realized he would need to address his nephew's comments, once the boy's tears subsided a bit. He continued to stroke Zuko's hair, shushing him when he began to cry loudly once again.

More wracking sobs made it impossible for Zuko to keep talking. What was  _ wrong _ with him!? He could hardly stand to be around himself right now, he was so filled with self-loathing. He curled in on himself further, attempting to pull away from the gentle touch on his back. 

_ I don't deserve this! Just leave me be. _

But Iroh was having none of it. He knew the thoughts that must be racing through the boy's mind, and he knew he couldn't let them continue their rampage any longer. He pulled on his nephew's shoulder, forcing Zuko to roll over and face him. The boy's eyes were screwed shut tightly, face red and messy with tears. His breaths were coming in short gasps again, causing his whole body to tremble.

Iroh cupped his nephew's cheek with one hand, gently thumbing away his tears, forcing the boy to meet his gaze. Watery golden eyes met his own.

"Zuko, listen to me. You cannot continue on like this. You cannot allow yourself to be so consumed by your past. Though you have been through much, you do not have to let your past define you or dictate your thoughts and feelings. You  _ must _ let _ go _ of these feelings of shame."

"B-but how? H-how do I stop f-feeling like this?" He said, voice quivering.

Iroh continued holding the boy's face, stroking the wet cheeks with a calloused thumb as he spoke again.

"First, you must admit your feelings of shame. Acknowledge them, realize that you have held onto them for too long, have allowed them to control your thoughts and actions," said Iroh, eyes locked with his nephew's. 

Zuko held his gaze, listening intently. Quiet, hitching breaths were his only response.

"Then, you need to examine the source of your feelings. Ask yourself the tough questions: Where did these feelings come from? What has happened that has caused such intense feelings of shame? Once you've done that, you must accept what's happened and leave it in the past."

Iroh saw the boy nod in response. He hoped his nephew was taking this to heart. The boy couldn't afford not to any longer.

"And last, you must replace those feelings of shame with  _ compassion _ for yourself. We all make mistakes, upset others, and do things wrong at some point in time. And that is  _ okay! _ "

He brought his hands back to the boy's shoulders, squeezing gently, making sure he had Zuko's full attention before continuing.

"Nephew, please believe me when I say there is nothing you have done, no mistake you have made in your life that is worthy of some of the treatment you've received."

Zuko tried to look away, but Iroh wouldn't let him. He gently brought a hand to the boy's face, forcing the child to face him. He could sense the turmoil in his nephew, could almost read his tumultuous thoughts. He pressed on, knowing how important it was for Zuko to hear this.

"You are  _ no _ failure! And even if you were, you did not deserve any of the terrible things that have happened to you. You deserve love and acceptance, unconditionally, as does  _ every _ human being."

Zuko sat quietly, eyes downcast, taking in his Uncle's words. Iroh could see the hesitation in his nephew's face. He could see him thinking over what he said, and hoped it was sinking in. 

"Zuko, look at me," he said. Hesitantly, the boy met his gaze. His nephew's eyes glistened with fresh, unshed tears.

_ My poor, sweet Zuko. If only you could see yourself the way I see you. _

"This stops here. You  _ must _ take the first crucial step and acknowledge how you feel. There is  _ no _ weakness in it! In fact, it takes a great deal of inner strength to do so. I know it is not easy, but it is necessary if you want to rid yourself of these thoughts and feelings that haunt you."

Zuko closed his eyes, two new tear tracks forming as he did so.

"I don't know if I can," Zuko replied, voice quavering with suppressed emotion.

"Yes you can, Nephew. I'm right here."

That was all he needed to hear. Though he couldn't bear to admit it aloud, Uncle was right. He was completely, utterly  _ ashamed _ of himself. And not just for what he'd done in the past. For who he was as a  _ person _ . In fact, he absolutely despised, no,  _ HATED  _ himself. A deep, gut wrenching sob bubbled its way to the surface as he finally acknowledged the true root of his anger and unhappiness.

He gasped in surprise when he was suddenly pulled forward against a strong, broad chest. 

_ Uncle. _

He wrapped his arms around the man's middle, burying his face as he cried.

"It h-hurts, Uncle...I'm t-t-t- _ tired _ of it h-hurting so much... _ ALL THE TIME...I'm t-tired of being me...I don't want to be me any-anymore… _ I don-don't want this anymore," he said in shuddering gasps of air. 

"I know, Nephew. I know, shhh."

Iroh held Zuko close, one hand woven into the boy's soft hair, the other on his back. He gently rocked their bodies back and forth, murmuring words of comfort as the boy finally allowed himself to work through years of pent up guilt and shame.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Zuko's incomprehensible mutterings stopped and his tears dried up. He could feel his body slowly beginning to relax, sinking further into Uncle's embrace. Lulled into an almost trance-like state, Zuko was barely aware of his surroundings except for Uncle's strong chest beneath his tender face, the rocking motion of their bodies together, and the occasional quiet "shh" in his ear. His entire body hummed with quiet relief. It had been many years since he had felt such complete and total serenity. He didn't care that he was 16-years-old and essentially a grown man by many standards. It just felt too damn good to be held like this. Before he was completely lost to the world around him, he felt his body shifting backward, coming to rest on the mattress below.

"I think it is time for you to try to get some rest, my nephew. It is quite late," Iroh said, laying a hand on his forehead and brushing the boy's hair out of his face.

Zuko nodded, eyes closed. He was exhausted in every sense of the word, and could already feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. However, he was jolted back awake when he felt Uncle's hand leave his head.

_ No, don't go! _

Blearily, he opened his eyes, searching for the lost source of comfort. He was met with kind eyes staring down at him.

"What is it, Nephew?"

Zuko turned his head to the side and looked at the wall, fearful and embarrassed of vocalizing such a childish request aloud. He fidgeted with the hem of his blanket, hoping Uncle would somehow read his thoughts.

_ Stay with me, please. _

It took Iroh a few moments to realize what Zuko was silently asking for. A warm smile enveloped his features as he looked down upon his nephew.

"I will be right here, Zuko. I am not going anywhere," he said, carding a hand through the boy's hair. 

Zuko nodded, thankful he did not have to ask for what he so desperately wanted, what he  _ needed _ .

He closed his eyes, quickly beginning to drift off again. Before sleep took him completely, he felt a gentle hand push aside his bangs, followed by a soft kiss to his forehead. He knew he should feel embarrassed, but instead, he felt warmth bloom in his chest, replacing the heavy weight of shame. 

"You are so loved, my nephew. Someday, you will see it."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I would love to hear what you think in the comments.


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